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Bits o’ Life 






































































































SLQSL 
















fS 3£-4 7 
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Copyright 1923 by Will Ransom 



nrc 3i ?3 




To My Mother 






CONTENTS 


Foreword 

9 

The Sunrise 

13 

Pansies 

H 

The Rarest Jewel 

15 

My Mother s Love 

16 

Higher Up 

*7 

Modern Surgery 

18 

The Sun s Reflection 

19 

Valentine Greetings 

20 

Night 

21 

Twilight 

22 

Starting Early 

23 

Higher Prices 


T ravel 

26 

A Telephone Call 

27 

Apple Blossoms 

28 

Our Clocks 

29 

Vacation 

30 

Limousine vs. Ford 

3 1 

Maids 

32 

Hope 

33 

War 

34 

Sis 

35 

Discontent 

3<S 

Luck 

37 

Summer Evenings 

38 


Is There Something Worse? 39 


Mother s Day 
Father 
Summer 
Safety First 
Asking Too Much 
The Decision 
My Dolly 

Why Should She Care? 

The Vamp 

Latest Styles 

The Year 

Mother Dear 

The Rainy Day 

Boys 

A Tramp 
A True Proverb 
Mother s Precious Pet 
Oh You Kid! 

June 

An Excuse 
A Flapper 

A Description of a Stuck 
Child Life Magazine 
The Golf Craze 
To My Vampire 
Cut It Out 
A Matter of Time 
Careful Mother 


40 
W 
42 

44 

45 

46 

47 

48 

49 

50 

51 

54 

55 

56 
58 

60 

61 

62 

63 

64 

66 

JJp Lady 6j 

68 
69 
To 

71 

72 

73 


A Great Reward 74 

School Days 7<5 

A Young Lady of 1923 7 $ 

A Tribute to My Minister 80 

Our Baby 81 

God's Gifts 82 

Old Maid's Fascination 83 

To An Oak 84 

Joy 83 

Astronomy 86 

Prohibition 87 

Trials of a Bridal Pair 88 

Dream Poetry 89 









Foreword 


In reading this book, an understanding of its 
genesis is necessary to thorough appreciation. For 
Bits o' Life is an unusual book, written under ex¬ 
ceptional conditions—Leona Yaffe is but ten years 
of age. In fact, many of these verses were written 
in earlier years, for she has been writing since she 
was eight. 

Bits o' Life will therefore find a place of greatest 
favor with the reader who holds deep in his heart, 
buried though it may be, the golden sentiment of 
childhood. Whoever has this outlook on life, or 
rather insight into it, will not seek the epic grandeur 
of the swelling ocean; rather, he will find the 
sweeter note of the little purling brook. Here is no 
soldierly tread, no brazen note of bugle nor boom¬ 
ing beat of drum; instead, the patter of little feet 
scampers through the pages, while here and there a 
silvery peal of childish laughter rings out pure and 
unspoiled. 

Throughout these verses, truly bits of life, the 
author has, without conscious effort, accomplished 
the first requisite of art: “A sincere portrayal of 
one’s own vision of life.” She has depicted her im¬ 
pressions of daily happenings, painting her word 
pictures with a nice discrimination in her choice and 
use of words. 


9 


The important qualities, the elements that make 
this volume distinctive, are natural ability, fresh¬ 
ness of viewpoint, and freedom of style rarely found 
at so early an age. To curb this spontaneous ex¬ 
pression would be unfair. To mar the delicacy of 
such precious naivete would be no less than sacrilege. 
To cultivate the diction would be indeed to “paint 
the lily.” So the poems are presented, without edi¬ 
torial revision, exactly as they were written. 

To whomsoever has the heart of a child, unspoiled 
by passing years, these Bits o’ Life are happily 
offered, in the knowledge that the reader will see 
and feel with a child’s enthusiasm the charm of 
these verses and learn to love their little author for 
her simple, lovable form of expression. 

W. A. Phelps. 

Chicago , 1923 




IO 


Bits o’ Life 








The Sunrise 


At the beginning of each day, 

When dawn slowly fades away, 

And all is still, there comes a peep 
From birds awakening from their sleep. 

We see the last pale streaks of dawn, 
And every sign of night is gone, 

For it has swiftly fled away, 

To be replaced by the new day. 

So, as the sun rises on high, 

A golden glow shows in the sky. 

There slowly comes a tint of blue, 

A shade of pink and silver too, 

Followed by purple, orange and white; 
All break into a glorious light. 

Each flower, too, opens, one by one, 

To greet the rising of the sun; 

The golden gates of paradise, 

Are open with the bright sunrise. 




/ 




Pansies 


I love the yellow pansies 
With their faces laughing gay, 

Their stalks of green so slender, 

Their light and graceful sway. 

I love the solemn pansies 
And their colors dark and sad, 

And some with soft caressing touches, 
That make me feel so glad, 

Though I love the graceful pansies 
That sway in rain and sun, 

And the solemn dark and sorrowful ones, 
And those so full of fun. 

The royal, noble flowers, 

The purple ones so tall, 

I love them best, ah better 
Than any of them all. 

They are the most gorgeous blossoms, 
That ever one could find, 

And stir the loveliest memories 
Forever in my mind. 


The Rarest Jewel 

It is not found in mines so deep, 

Nor in the hilly earth, 

But this jewel is in our own heart, 
Great origin of mirth! 

And if you think you lack this jewel, 
Find it before you are too late, 

Do not drive it from its place, 

Which will be filled by dreadful hate. 

We learn of it in our own home, 

We have it in our school, 

This precious gem is friendship, 
Friendship, rarest jewel. 


J 5 


My Mother s Love 


Mother is my greatest blessing, 

How I’d miss her soft caressing, 

How her tender love I ’d miss, 

And her sweet and thoughtful kiss. 

If my side she were to leave, 

I would sorrow, I would grieve, 

For my mother, my comforting guide; 
My love for mother will never have died, 

And in words I could never express. 
How I love her soft caress, 

And as long as she is here, 

I shall love my mother dear. 


Higher Up 

We used to live in an apartment, 

But Dad thought he’d be swell, 

So he got a seven room suite, 

At a large hotel. 

It seems that we ’re as high 
As the hundredth floor; 

I guess we ’re living higher up 
Than we ever did before. 

The manager told Mother 
About the wondrous view, 

And I ’ll tell you about it, 

I’m sure ’twill surprise you; 

For what we really, truly see, 

Is roofs and smoke galore, 

And I decided then and there, 

I cared to see no more. 

And when the end of the month came, 
I glanced at the rent bill; 

It seems the higher that we go, 

The rent goes higher still. 




Modern Surgery 

Oh will there ever be an end 
To modern surgery? 

Sometimes I quite begin to think, 

That no end there can be. 

Why just plain simple growing pains 
Have turned to appendicitis; 
Pneumonia now has taken place 
Of what was just laryngitis. 

And such things as they now invent; 
For instance take X-rays, 

And things we never dreamed of having 
In other earlier days; 

And things that used to look so little 
Now mean real harm; 

What used to be just a sprained wrist 
Is now a broken arm. 

Since modern surgery has spread 
To every land and nation, 

Everyone in the whole world 
Will need an operation. 


18 


The Suns Reflection 

The sky is the sun’s great mirror, 
He looks in it at night, 

And he sees his own reflection 
Is but the moon so white, 

And all his golden shiny rays, 
Have turned to stars so bright. 


Valentine Greetings 


I send a lovely Valentine, 

A pretty one to you ; 

But all I ask is to be loved, 
The way that’s really true. 


20 


Night 


Night spreads her starry robe of mist 
Softly all around; 

So silently, 

So softly it floats through the air, 
And heals all gloom that comes 
With the shadows. 

Silently it comes and still; 

With it is peace and contentment. 


21 


Twilight 


Twilight comes. 

The dark mysterious shades of night 
Are noiselessly, slowly, falling, falling. 
From the treetops the birds sing to 
their mates; 

They are softly, sweetly, calling, calling; 
There come these sounds, “Cherup, 
tweet, tweet.” 

Never was music heard so sweet, 

And each glorious note 
Never before was heard 
From the silvery throat 
Of a wee pretty bird. 

The music floats out o’er the 
darkening sky. 

We ask: What is their song? 

’T is the birds’ lullaby. 


22 


Starting Early 


“Oh dear me! What shall I do?' 

Said little Shirley Anne ; 

“Lois told me I ’d be an old maid 
Unless I married some man. 

I dess that maybe I tould, 

But I do n’t know if I tan; 

I only love my Daddy dear, 

And my big bruvver Ben. 

But I know they ’re married, 
And ta n’t do it again ; 

It do n’t seem like I’s popular 
With any of the men.” 


2 3 


Higher Prices 


Oh everything has changed around 
During these last past years. 

Nothing cheap now is ever found, 

And this disturbs my fears. 

And even the man who brings the ice, 
The chauffeur who drives my car, 
Have demanded an awful price, 
Which is too high by far. 

And everyone around the place 
Lives more expensively. 

I loathe to meet them face to face, 

For fear they ’ll charge a fee. 

Why even the kids have become 
What I might call sassy; 

My office boy today 
Thought that he ’d be classy. 

I’m sure they could n’t charge more 
Than what they want these days. 

My office boy, as I said before, 

Cries: “Boss, give me a raise;” 

The man who brings my coal to me, 
Now for it charges more, 

And I tell you I now can see 
These prices are a bore. 


24 


Since earlier years the prices 
have soared, 

Till I hardly have left a cent. 

I guess that soon the landlord 
Will decide to raise the rent. 

And for workmen the prices are all 
being raised, 

While wages are going down low; 

I think that I will soon be crazed, 

If they keep on just so. 

And I think it’s terrible, too; 

I never before heard the like ; 

Oh! tell me when we will be through 
With hearing strike, strike, strike. 
This mess is not so pretty, 

With prices going high; 

What will become of our fair city 
Unless this rage will die. 

If prices won’t go down, what will? 
Values Goodness curses; 

Now all we ’ll need is one more bill, 
To empty out our purses. 


2 5 


Travel 


Gliding o’er the sapphire tide, 

By the sparkling water side, 

In waters blue and clear and swift, 
With the current on we drift. 

Pleasant is the passing breeze, 

Which rocks the weeping willow trees 
That skirt the bank, like fairy bridges, 
Bending over rocks and ridges. 

Through woodland waters on we go, 
Never stopping once, although 
The beauty is a strong temptation, 

And we have no destination. 

Still we keep up, though we know 
Of no place where we wish to go. 

And though through cities large and gay 
We will make our carefree way, 

I am sure that on some day 
Our great longing will unravel, 

And we will not care for travel. 

Then we ’ll welcome the time when we 
cease to roam, 

The time that sends away our travels, 
and sees us safely home. 


26 


A Telephone Call 

Hello, operator, is this you ? 

Give me Edgewater 2522. 

I should say not, why no, good heaven, 
I do n’t want Central 367. 

No indeed, why goodness me, 

Who asked for Lincoln 443? 

I want Edgewater 2522 ; 

Now what is the matter with you? 

It’s not 24, it is 25, 

Dearie me! why sakes alive! 

What’s the matter with this place? 
Oh! good morning, is that you Grace ? 

I ’ll have to ask you very hearty— 
Goodness, get off of this line, party— 

Today, will you come over here? 
What! you can’t! oh, dearie, dear! 

All that trouble for nothing at all ; 

If you can, give my phone a call. 


27 


Apple Blossoms 


With the scent of a thousand flowers gay, 
The scent of a million leaves, 

Is twisted through the branches green 
A nest that some small bird weaves. 

If the apple trees are in blossom, 

In the months of May or June, 

Look them over quickly, 

For they will be gone soon. 

And after the snowy blossoms sweet, 

With their soft and fragrant perfume, 

Are blowing slowly on the breeze, 

And they have ceased to bloom, 

It seems like the summery weather has gone ; 
It seems we Ve seen it go, 

When we look at the apple trees now 
clad in green, 

With their trunks in the flowery snow. 


28 


Our Clocks 


In our house we have lots of clocks, 
They ’re scattered all galore, 

Upon the shelves and mantels, 

Upon the desk and floor. 

In fact, we have enough clocks, 

To fill a whole clock store, 

Little clocks that go tick, tock, tick, 
Big clocks that grandly chime. 

This point of view may seem all right, 
But not one stays on time. 


29 


Vacation 


Vacation time takes off from me, 
A load of aggravation; 

Although I love my studies well, 
I quite prefer vacation. 


SO 


Limousine vs. Ford 

I will bet that Henry Ford, 

With his Lizzie won’t be bored; 
He would have a Limousine, 

Instead of his cranky Ford machine. 


3 * 


Maids 


Getting maids is awfully hard, 
That’s what Mother says to Pa. 
He’s so used to the same old news, 
That he only answers Baa. 

Maids! Maids! Maids! 

Anne was an old cross patch, 

And Nancy would n’t stay; 
Margaret and Mary came, 

And left that very day. 

Maids ! Maids ! Maids ! 

Susan was a rotten cook, 

Della could n’t bake a pie; 

Getting maids is awfully hard, 

Oh dear me, oh my! 


Maids! Maids! Maids! 


Hope 


Way down in our hearts is something, 
Some call consolation, 

It soothes our grief and sorrow, 

And wipes out aggravation ; 

And when this something is around, 
Each care goes away in a hurry, 

And we only think of joy, 
Forgetting every worry. 

I call it hope, this something 
That makes us feel so gay, 

That helps us forget our troubles, 
And sweeps all gloom away. 


War 


When war’s dark and thundering cloud 
Rolls on and will not cease, 

God sends us daring men to pave 
The path of life with peace. 


34 


Sis 


Some foolish things as grown ups think of 
Are ’stonishing foolish things. 

Dad only thinks of his papers and smokes, 

Ma only thinks of her rings. 

Sis only thinks how her hair looks, 

She says it is terribly bad. 

But if anyone agreed with her, 

Gee ! she’d get awfully mad. 

Sis is the worst one of the bunch, 

The worst that the family’s had ; 

The only one thing that she cares for, 

Is to be with the latest new fad. 

And I pity her poor sweetie; 

For her he’d do anything; 

He carries this for her, and holds that, 

Till he looks like he works on a string. 

They go to the “Cafe de Menu,” 

And they get the best of eats, 

Then he marches around to the florist, 

And there buys her flowers and sweets. 

And when the clock strikes half past three, 
Sis comes a-fluttering in; 

Her sweetie with a purse that was once 
very fat, 

Brings home one that’s now very thin. 

As I said before, she’s the worst of the bunch, 
Yes, the worst that the family’s had, 

When she hurries up and marries him, 

That’s when I ’ll be glad. 

35 


Discontent 


In hot and stifling weather, 

When we cannot feel a breeze, 

We wish for good old winter, 

And for weather that would freeze. 

But when winter really comes, 

Its cold is strongly felt, 

And then we wish for summer, 

And for weather that would melt. 

Oh! summer’s burning weather, 

And winter’s ice has meant 
Very little when compared 
With mortal’s discontent. 


Luck 


The millionaire’s wife is lucky, 
For robes her money goes, 

But luckier is the girl of the 
South Sea Isles, 

She does n’t need any clothes. 


Summer Evenings 

There’s a peaceful hush on the soft night air, 
Scarce a leaf stirs on the breeze, 

And the warm night wind sings, softly and low, 
A sweet psalm through the trees. 

Then everything is beautiful, 

And everything is peace, 

And the whole world seems like a paradise, 
Where comforts and joys never cease. 

Never was there such a peaceful scene, 

One more pleasing to the eye, 

Than when the moon rises ghastly and white, 
Out of the evening sky. 

There’s a peaceful hush on the soft night air, 
Scarce a leaf stirs on the breeze, 

And the warm night wind sings, softly and low, 
A sweet psalm through the trees. 


Is There Something Worse? 

Is there anything worse than a toothache, 
Just when a toothache we have; 

Is there anything worse than a sore leg, 
When we must put on the salve; 

Is there anything worse than measles, 
Just when the measles we’ve got; 

Is there anything worse than a fever, 

As we begin to feel hot; 

Is there anything worse than a cough, 
When we need our handkerchiefs white; 
Is there anything worse than anything bad, 
When the bad thing’s at its height ? 


39 


Mother’s Day 

On Mother’s day so beautiful, 

So sweeter than the rest, 

Mother is our dearest thought, 

So gloriously blest. 

And on this day for Mother, 

We all must do our part, 

It need not be with gift or flower, 
But with a loving heart. 

Why do we think of Mother, 

Just these few hours in May? 
Why not let every day be 
A blessed Mother’s Day? 


40 


Father 


Who works and toils for you all day, 

So honest and so true? 

And who does all that’s in his power, 

To love and comfort you? 

And who provides for us, we ask, 

The things we all love best? 

’T is father, is the right reply, 

And father should be blest. 

Oh, what does father mean to us? 

A teacher and a guide 

Who leads us through our troubles 

And is always at our side. 

Father is but a common word, 

But it means so much to me; 

It stands for braveness, strength and truth, 
And sincere loyalty. 

And Oh! I thank my father 
For the things he does for me ; 

If I could only be like him, 

How thankful I would be. 


41 


Summer 


Aw! Whoiver longed fer summer, 

An’ weather so melting hot, 

Thet ye do n’t keer wot you ’re doin’ 
An’ wither it’s done er not. 

I mean thet drawly, yawnin’ weather; 
Oh! thets th’ kind I hate, 

Win wir jes’ so slow and drowsy-like 
Weriver we go werr late! 

But ye ought to see my sis in summer; 
She puts on her bes’ dress 
An’ fixes and fusses aroun’ with ’er hair 
Till it’s an arful mess. 

Ye’d think when yer saw ’er, she was 
gettin’ ready 
Fer a sursiety ball; 

But the real secret iz 

Her sweetie’s cornin’ tuh call. 

An’ in th’ bilin’ summer-time, 

Wen th’ weather’s ez hot ez a torch, 

Sis an’ her sweetie take up all th’ room 
Thet ye cun find on th’ porch. 

An’ they jes’ sit aroun’ there 
A-whisperin’ in each other’s ear; 

I dunno jes’ wot they say 
’Cause they won’t let me hear. 


4 * 


It’s lucky for them they do n’t let me near, 
But I want to git there jes’ ez well; 

I guess they ’re talkin’ some crazy love, 

If I knew you cun bet I’d tell. 

But one day they thought I’d heard ’em; 
I did n’t though, ye cun guess, 

An’ her sweetie sed ef I did n’t tell, 

He’d gimme a dollar ($1.00), no less. 

But once I got fooled jest awful, 

Wen she an’ he quarreled, one day, 
’Cause I thought she wuzz through 
with men 

That time her sweetie went away. 

That’s what I really did think, 

But I guess I was n’t right, 

’Cause she had another gink 
To take her out that night. 





43 



Safety First 


When Willie’s father told Willie to 
meet him 

In the barn that very day, 

Willie stuffed his trousers full 
Of the nice sweet hay. 

When his father came down he 
asked Willie 

To speak for himself and say 
That he had been so naughty, 

Or else the stick he would lay. 

Brave Willie said: “Father, I can ’t 
tell a lie, 

And right now I ’ll say that really I 
Think that I have been very good, 
And behaved as any model boy should.” 

This made his father very sad, 

For really Willie had been bad, 

But when his stick he tried to lay, 

He could not hurt the trousers of hay. 


44 


Asking Too Much 

Grandma had a luncheon, 

And Dickie tried his best, 

To think of some little joke, 

To entertain each guest. 

After a while he left the room, 

But soon he returned, saying clearly, 
“Grandma, will you do something for me, 
If you really love me dearly?” 

“What is it, my honey pet,” asked she, 
“What do you want me to do? 

And when shall I do it, my darling boy, 
When I ask of you ?” 

“Just kick this bucket that I have brought,” 
Said Grandma’s little Dick, 

“For Daddy said that I ’d be rich, 

If the bucket you would kick.” 


45 


The Decision 


The beautiful flapper denied 
the charge, 

The Judge and Jury heard ’er, 
And since they were won by her 
beauty and charm, 

She got away with murder. 


46 


My Dolly 


I have the sweetest dolly, 

She looks like a real child, 

But she is quite far from it, 

For she is not half so wild. 

But how could she act wild when 
The only word she could say 
(Or squeal, you know), was “Mamma,” 
Which she repeats each day. 

When I first saw her I knew 
She was the doll for me. 

With her little tongue of rubber, 

And her wee teeth, two or three, 

She looks like a real baby, 

When you sit her in a chair, 

With her rosy cheeks and curly wig 
Of real true brown hair. 

And she walks just lovely, 

If you hold her hand a bit; 

She toddles on in step with you, 

Unless, of course, you quit. 

For if you will not help her walk, 

Most likely she would fall, 

She’s not such a wonder, 

As to go with no support at all. 

Though with all her other virtues, 

She’s a wonder doll. 


47 


Why Should She Care? 


Sis loved to play the game, 
But she lost with the decks. 
Now did Sis care? 

Well, she did not— 

For Dad paid out the checks. 


48 


The Vamp 


Beware of the vampire, 
Beware, beware, 

She ’ll vamp you yet, 

If you do n’t take care. 

She seeks a good looking fellow, 
And him she ’ll want to lamp ; 
I pity any poor fool, 

In the clutches of a vamp. 


49 


Latest Styles 

(Written when Egyptian styles were in rage) 

Tut, tut, King Tut, 

Hold on for a while. 

The girls ask you, “What 
Is your latest style?” 

Since our latest styles are from 
Such an early age, 

Those that from Egypt come 
Are sure to be the rage. 

So, “How do you do,” latest fad, 

You ’re very welcome, you know; 

If you do n’t want to stay, 
we ’ll be glad, 

Glad indeed if you go! 


5° 


The Year 

(An Acrostic) 

January’s the month for me; 

All is glorious o’er land and sea. 

New Years day brightens all; 

United is everyone when they call 
And shout “New Years Day! New 
Years day!” 

Ringing their voices so they sound 
far away. 

Years come so swiftly, they never stay. 

February is the month for me; 
Everyone is proud of it, you see; 
Birthdays of our two great 
statesmen arrive, 

Rejoicingly all the nation does thrive, 
United as we are we sing of our 
heroes past; 

Abraham Lincoln so staunch; and last 
Remember George Washington, a 
great man too; 

You see he was a statesman true. 

March is just the month for me 
And everything is full of glee; 

Raw winds blow through everywhere, 
Clouds and fog are in the air. 

Hark! ’t is March, we are aware. 


5 1 


April is the month for me; 

Pouring rain is all we see; 

Raining, raining everywhere, 

It all seems to fill the air, 

Leaving freshness everywhere. 

May—it is the month for me; 

All the flowers are sprouting free; 
You, dear May, are full of glee. 

June—it is the month for me; 

Up in the clouds the birds I see; 

Now there’s roses all in bloom; 
Everything nice happens in June. 

July—it is the month for me; 

Umm! there’s so many flowers, Wheel 
Larks are singing as they fly: 

“You will like it in July.” 

August—it’s the month for me; 
United at the beach are we. 

Gusts of wind may come and go, 

Up and down the city blow, 

Still we do not mind the dust, 

’T is because it is August. 

September—it’s the month for me ; 
Every blossom, flower and tree 
Perfumes the air with an odor sw 4 eet, 
Till farmers smell it in their wheat. 


5 2 


Every farmer loves the smell 
Mirthly working in the dell 
Beneath the trees the birds remember 
Every song they sing so tender, 
(Really, don’t you like September?) 

October—it’s the month for me ; 
Calmly the winds blow o’er the sea; 
Twilight comes earlier in the day. 
October’s month is all array 
Bringing happiness to one and all 
Ever remembering this beautiful fall. 
Restful October, we love your call. 

November is the month for me; 

On every barren bush and tree, 
Varieties of every kind, 

Everywhere you will find. 

Memories of November stay 
Behind it, when it’s gone away, 
Enticing all the plants and trees, 
Ringing and singing in the breeze. 

December is the month for me; 
Everywhere is snow, on land and sea 
Come as it will, 

Every tree and hill 
Marks a spot in the snow. 

Beyond, cottages glow; 

Every spirit of Christmas night 
Remaining in beautiful, glorious light. 

53 


Mother Dear 


Tho’ flow’rs may be fragrant, and 
pretty and bright, 

And birds may sweetly sing; 
Mother is better and sweeter, far, 
Than any other thing. 

The joyfulness she brings to me, 
The sorrow that she shares; 

It never seems to interfere 
With all her other cares. 

She always is so sweet and kind, 
No matter when and where; 

It always seems so dark and dull 
When mother is n’t there. 

And, so, because she is so loving, 

I ’ll try my best to do 
The things I think will please 
dear Mother, 

All her sweet life thru’. 


54 


The Rainy Day 

I sat at the window on a pleasant rainy day, 

Feeling guiltily that I was throwing time away. 

I listened to the musical monotony of the rain, 

And to the pleasing rattle of the broken 
window pane. 

But to get some amusement I thought to 
take a look, 

In a dull but very interesting book. 

I left the room a moment this fine book for 
to fetch, 

Which was so fascinating that I yawned and 
longed to stretch. 

If a rainy day is pleasant, you may answer 
that alone. 

As to myself, I simply love its endless monotone. 


55 


Boys 


I know what some young men do; 

They drink and smoke, swear and chew, 
(Although the ladies do this too) ; 

Or to their sweetie’s house they go, 

To take her to a dance or show; 

Though sometimes they stay there, you know. 
When he goes he brings her flowers, 

And has to wait there, full three hours; 
Three hours, or maybe more, 

Sometimes he has to wait, before 
To do one thing she’s even ready. 

Wonder how he can be steady! 

I’m sure I could n’t but he is, 

I guess it’s just a fad of his. 

Or when he goes to pay a visit, 

His sweetie’s Papa cries “Who is it?” 

“It’s me, dear; now let me in;” 

But out he goes with a rolling pin. 

And when spring comes, Ah! dear spring, 

He thinks of many a foolish thing. 

“I cannot live without you, dear, 

So please love me while I am here, 

My love for you is so intense, 

Do n’t use those dollars, use your sense,” 

He cries, with manly eloquence. 

For when spring comes, then that’s the time 
That all his thoughts drop into rhyme. 


5<5 


“Hark! as the pigeon cries coo-coo, 

It means in dove talk, I love you. 

Please pay heed to my urgent cries; 
With your wonderful hair and eyes, 

If my wife you ’ll only be, 

Tell me now, will you marry me?” 

But she wants him to be rough, 

And only likes the cave man stuff; 
Though on her no one e’er has tried it, 
She ’ll have it yet, so she’s decided. 

Now these are only troubles few, 

In the lives of young men, old ones too, 
Some men, though, have really tried 
To win their girls by suicide. 

But here’s a sentence, a true one, 

The way to a girl’s heart is no fun! 


57 



A Tramp 


How a tramp sometimes looks to me, 

Is not as pleasant as can be, 

Oh no indeed! 

I think because he will not work, 

And from all duties he does shirk, 

That he’s in need. 

Beneath a train he often creeps, 

Where comfortably he rides and sleeps, 
But free of fare; 

And as the train rolls on all day, 

He does not think that in some way, 
They ’ll find him there. 

Of course he looks quite far from pretty, 
As he roams from town to city, 

In ragged dress. 

His face which is so full of dirt, 

Has many times, been scratched and hurt; 
Oh what a mess! 

His clothes are shabby and ragged quite, 
The colors are both dark and light, 

And these he didn’t buy. 


58 


And of course he can’t dress right, 

He only makes a perfect fright; 

Oh me! Oh my ! 

For many years these clothes he’s worn, 
No wonder that they are so torn, 

And black and damp. 

If when he wanders night and morn, 
His face is silent and forlorn, 

Then he’s a tramp. 


59 


'A True Proverb 

With one proverb I agree; 

That is that no chain can be 
Stronger than its weakest link; 

And this is right, I surely think. 

And to prove that it is true, 

’T is the same with our lives too; 

For they never can be pure, 

Unless we are very sure, 

That no little deed we Ve done, 

Which in some way has harmed someone. 
For little things may make the whole; 
“A fly in soup may spoil the bowl;” 

The same with gold, for an alloy 
Will its pureness quite destroy. 

So now you know why a chain, I think, 
Can be no stronger than its weakest link. 



do 


Mother s Precious Pet 


The boy who lives across the way 
Is his mother’s precious pet; 

He always stays right by her side, 

Or else he ’ll cry and fret. 

He never does a single thing, 
Without his mother near; 

If she were to leave a moment, 

He would shed a tear. 

Another fact about him is, 

That if the least goes wrong 
With his mother’s precious pet, 

She stops his whining song 
By petting him an awful lot, 

And feeding him sweets so much, 
You’d think that he’s about to burst, 
At the very lightest touch. 

And when we ’re always teasing him, 
He cries in a way that’s wild; 

You can’t do anything with him— 
He’s his mother’s angel child. 


61 


Oh You Kid! 


The rich and stylish lady is lucky, 

She’s getting new furs and jewels this fall, 
But think of the fortunate maid of Hawaii, 
Who needs no clothes at all. 


62 


June 


June, queen of months, I love you best 
Of all the months in the year; 

Thirty short days belong to you, 

But I hardly can wait till they ’re here, 

When warm breezes float out towards the sky, 
And flicker through sunshine and shade, 

With enchanting nights and caressing moonbeams, 
June for me was ever made. 


<>3 


An Excuse 


Little Jean had pleaded and begged 
To wear her dress so new, 

Until her mother let her wear it, 

For that was all she could do. 

“But remember, dear,” 

Said mother, to little Jean, 

“If you wish to wear this dress, 

You must keep it clean.” 

So Jean promised and out she ran, 

As happy as could be, 

To join her little brother, 

For a merry child was she. 

And for a time she played with brother, 
Many a merry game, 

Until she fell into a puddle, 

And then to her mother she came. 

“Oh, goodness me! my child, 

Tell me, have you been hurt, 

Why, you look just terrible, 

All mussed up with dirt. 


64 


Come, my child, get cleaned up, 

For you ’re an awful mess, 

And Oh! dear me! I’m afraid that you 
Have spoiled your brand new dress.” 

For Jean was all bespattered with mud, 
And looked a perfect sight, 

And her dress looked muddy and black, 
Instead of dainty and white. 

“Well, Mamma,” explained wee Jean, 
“I was playing wiff bruvver a bit, 

And my dress fell in a puddle, 

Wiff me inside of it.” 


65 


A Flapper 


A bit of powder, a dab of rouge, 
An endless fixing of hair, 

And now we see the flapper, 
Quite distinctly there. 


66 


A Description of a Stuck Up Lady 

Her nose was up, 

Her mouth was down, 

Her face was lighted 
With a frown; 

She looked quite like 
A circus clown; 

Her ears stuck out, 

Her cheeks stuck in, 

And she had more than one chin, 

For she was quite far from thin; 

She had some powder, 

It smelled like rose, 

It showed quite plainly 
On her nose; 

And she wore expensive clothes. 

Her feet were in 
Some tiny shoes; 

Though she had more jewels 
Than she could lose, 

She looked the picture of abuse; 

For her nose was up, 

Her mouth was down, 

And she still looked like 
A circus clown. 


67 


Child Life Magazine 


The Child Life Magazine, 

I read with interest each day, 

For it affords me pleasure, 

And sweeps my cares away. 

In fact, I love it so well, 

I would not care indeed, 

If I were forced for a whole year, 
This magazine to read. 

That year would not be wasted, 
Though many days had gone, 

And during that time I quite believe, 
I ’d neither stretch nor yawn. 

Child Life is fascinating too, 

I enjoy it enormously, 

I hope by writing straight to you, 

A joy giver to be. 


68 


The Golf Craze 

The epidemic had already 
Spread amongst the men, 

But when mother got the golf craze, 
It was different then. 

Mother used to stay at home, 

Just like a decent person, 

Until she took up golf, but then, 
You ought to hear her cursin’. 

If Dad wants her to mend his socks, 
Or Sis wants her to fix her frocks, 
She says she never studied nursin’. 
And she won’t mend for any person, 
Since she took up golf. 


To My Vampire 

I used to love you with my heart, 

I used to love you with my dough, 

And though you vamped me once too much, 
I still love you, love you so. 

When I was a kid I thought 
That when I grew up I’d endeavor 
To ward off all heartbreaking vampires, 
And not let them vamp me—Oh never! 

But since then I guess I have changed, 

For when one rolls her eyes, you see, 

I have no heart for her to break, 

Which is lucky enough for me. 


70 


Cut It Out 


Cut out that “chicken au gratin,” 
Cut out that special “fowl supreme,” 
When you know perfectly well, 

’T is only chicken dipped in cream. 

Why all those fancy French titles, 
And why that fancy name, 

When you know perfectly well, 
That they all mean the same? 

I wish they ’d cut out that habit, 

In restaurant or club; 

Why give it a French title, 

When it’s plain American grub ? 

I know now that all those names 
Are nothing more than lies, 

Nor can you try to fool me 
With your cakes and with your pies. 

And when we order French pastry, 
We only see plain cake, 

Which should be really rightly called, 
Pie a la bellyache. 


7 1 


A Matter of Time 


The old fashioned girl wears a powdered white wig, 
And skirts that stick out and are awfully big, 

The old fashioned girl is so timid and shy, 

If a mouse she would see, 

I’m sure she’d quite die— 

Oh! My! 

But the new fashioned lady is quite different I see, 
Her skirts are so short and she flirts terribly, 

A thousand new hats and wraps she’s bound to buy, 
But she hasn’t enough—you will hear her sigh, 

Oh! My! 


72 


Careful Mother 


“Now, my dear, please go to school; 

I truly hope you ’re not a fool; 

Do not make a bit of noise, 

Or play with any naughty boys; 

Do n’t speak to anyone that you meet, 
Remember not to cross the street ; 

And if my words you do obey, 

You ’ll be popular and gay; 

You must be ladylike, my boy, 

For then you ’ll be your mother’s joy; 
You need n’t kiss me, ’t is not neat, 

And I want you to be sweet.” 

I wonder if what the careful mother 
Says is quite right or quite wrong too 
Sometimes I think she is not fair, 

To forbid him what all boys do ; 

But she does it for his good, 

As every other mother should. 


73 




A Great Reward 

’Twas supposed to come in at half past eight, 
But it just had to arrive late, 

And so of course, we stood to wait, 

And I nearly had a nervous fit, 

Until I thought of surveying a bit. 

I looked about with some surprise, 

And great wonder filled my eyes. 

The dirty tracks were filled with dust, 

The broken pillars smudged with rust. 

And from the station’s corner side, 

A tramp in rags and jags I spied; 

A world worn looking fellow he, 

In him no beauty could I see. 

A sorry woman standing by— 

I saw a tear in her bright eye, 

And children round her poorly clad, 
Trouble makers good and bad. 

A lovely person in mourning black, 
Glanced around, then turned her back. 
And people hurrying swiftly by, 

Rich and poor, bold and shy. 

I saw a man with beard so queer, 

In clothes outgrown for many a year; 

He talked so loud that I could hear, 

But what he said, I sadly fear, 

He knew very little of indeed; 


74 


And though I paid the slightest heed, 

I had to hear what he had to say, 

Which would make one laugh just any day; 
Such a subject, politics and laws, 

Of things he did not know the cause. 

As I became interested in his chatter, 

He was interrupted by a dreadful clatter— 
The train pulled up with a dismal “who-oo,” 
A cloud of dust and clanking, too, 

And other things that all trains do; 

But though the train had come there late, 

I felt rewarded for my wait. 


75 


School Days 


When I went to camp this summer, 
There were no rules for me to mind; 
All the girls were sweet and pleasant, 
And my teachers were so kind. 

But now when I am home from camp, 
I practise music every day, 

And then remember school has started, 
For I have no time for play. 

School gets on my nerves so much, 

I simply hate to go, 

With writing and arithmetic, 

And all that’s dull and slow. 

And then, of course, comes reading, 
And dreaded history; 

Why do I have to study so ? 

It’s more than I can see. 


76 


There’s Sunday school and dancing school, 
And more than I can tell, 

Goodness! it’s a wonder 
That I get on so well. 

Mother goes to parties, 

And plays bridge all day long, 

I wish that I could do the same, 

It would n’t be doing wrong. 

But Oh! when summer comes again, 

And camping days are here, 

That’s when I ’ll be free once more, 

To outdoor life so dear. 


A Young Lady of 1923 


The young lady of 1923 

Spends most of her time each day 

In dressing and powdering and going to parties, 

In quite the grandest way. 

When her sweetie calls to take her out, 

To a dance or to a show, 

She says: “Oh! I’m not ready now; 

Goodness, dearie, no— 

So he's just got to wait! 

And then she begins a-painting her cheeks, 

And powdering her delicate nose, 

And putting her clothes into order, 

With a French Perfume de Rose. 

She’s made up most of cosmetics, 

And things that have no sense, 

Her sweetie wonders why she’s not ready— 
Well she ’s just about to commence— 

So he's just got to wait! 


And after about two hours of this, 

She slips on a big fur coat, 

And fixes it here and fixes it there, 
Until it nearly gets your goat. 

She has to see if her hands look nice, 

If her cheeks are not too white, 

Well, she’s just about to commence— 
And spends about two hours or so, 

In getting them fixed just right— 

So he's just got to wait! 

And when at last she does get ready, 
He’s nearly ready to faint, 

She asks how her complexion looks, 

She does n’t mention her paint; 

She certainly knows how to make up, 
And dress to please the men, 

But if she thinks the least bit’s wrong, 
She ’ll start all over again— 

And he'll be still zuaiting. 


79 


A Tribute to My Minister 

On his Twenty-Fifth Anniversary with the Church. 

For twenty-five long years has he 
Faithfully served our temple great, 

He made it what it is today, 

Filled with love and freed from hate. 

And day by day, with loving heart, 

He labors for the Lord; 

In the great instrument of life, 

He sounds a wondrous chord. 

And though since he first to the church came, 
Many years have gone, 

We hope his past, present and future deeds, 
Will be remembered on. 

And in the making of the church, 

He has played many parts, 

And won a place of great renown, 

Forever in our hearts. 


8o 


Our Baby 


Our baby is very cute, 

With his funny wee turned up nose, 
With his eyes so big and bright, 

How proud we are of those. 

Mother says he ’ll be a flirt, 

If he rolls his eyes, 

But you would n’t think so if 
You heard the way he cries. 

He disturbs the neighbors, 

And wakes them from their beds, 
Until they tell us and complain 
Of headaches in their head. 

Baby do n’t look very promising, 

All he does is fret, 

And yet he’s muvver’s darling cutie, 
Mamma’s angel pet. 


8i 


God's Gifts 


I’m thankful for my God and for my religion too, 
I’m thankful that I have parents kind and true, 

I’m thankful for my country and for all that 
I can do, 

I’m thankful for the gifts that God has so 
bestowed on me, 

That I can feel and taste, that I can hear and see, 
For the gifts that God has given us, we all must 
thankful be. 


82 


Old Maid’s Fascination 

Since last I saw your manly form, 

Just one thing could I say, 

That is, my dear, I love you so, 

I never can be gay. 

I never yet again can smile, 

Oh no, never again, 

Unless I see you just once more, 

Most precious of all men. 

I used to hate all male things, 

From tramps to millionaires, 

But yet, dear soul, I love you, 

I love your very hairs. 

I love your grace, your lovely ways, 

Your foolish winking eyes, 

And if I see you once again, 

I’m filled with glad surprise. 

Last night I saw you standing still, 

’Neath the light of the summer moon, 
Though you spent full three hours with me, 
They passed so quick, too soon. 

When shall I hear your stately step ? 

Or see you at the door? 

I’m waiting patiently for you, 

Till I see you once more. 

83 


To An Oak 


Lordly monster, king of woods and forest, 
Monarch stately, proud and powerful thing, 
Of all the world around you, you are ruler, 
Of lowland, highland, field and meadow, king. 

Yet proud monarch, there is one above you, 
Above your majesty, wealth and state, 

That is God, almighty powerful ruler, 
Worship Him so glorious and so great. 


84 


Joy 


Oh! give the king his power and wealth, 
The prince his many lands, 

Let the queen have her flaming jewels 
To adorn her snow white hands. 

Although they all have what they wish, 
To me ’tis all the same, 

I do not ask for wealth or land, 

For power or for fame. 

My love for money and queenly jewels, 
Has long since now quite died, 

And I ask simply for but joy, 

Since I care not for pride. 


Asironomy 


The earth each day goes round the sun, 
It certainly seems very busy; 

I wonder why, when it goes around, 

We mortals do n’t feel dizzy. 

Or perhaps it is the same, 

With Mars and Venus too, 

For it’s said they go round the sun, 

As several other planets do. 

And when the sun sets every evening, 
Behind the lofty hill, 

Is it the sun that’s turning round, 

Or does the earth stand still? 

And when I come to think of it, 

This world is very queer, 

I wonder if it is the same, 

With every other sphere? 


86 


Prohibition 


Since drinking is prohibited here, 

We see very little beer, 

Nor is there any lucky gink, 

Who’s not arrested for a drink. 

Tell me who likes this proposition, 

Which the law calls prohibition, 

Show me those who say it’s not too frisky, 
Or those who like the lack of whiskey. 

Tell me of those who do not say, 

They wish ’twas repealed any day, 

But there are left more than a few, 

Who often take a drink or two. 

And at a dance or cabaret, 

Some take a sip, I Ve heard them say; 

Or to such and such a place, 

Some of these order a case, 

Of perhaps twenty-year-old scotch, 

But while detectives lie in watch, 

They often find that they are foiled, 

And their well planned schemes are spoiled. 

But if prohibition gets too far, 

Nothing will be left at saloon or bar, 

For surely if it will not stop, 

They ’ll soon be prohibiting pop. 

87 


Trials of a Bridal Pair 


Oh, shall our wedding be in June? 
Where shall we go for a honeymoon? 

I do n’t care for the South Sea Islands, 
We ’re tired of the Rocky Highlands, 
Russia does n’t appeal to me, 

France, Spain, England, Germany; 

Chile sounds too cold for me, 

Nor do we care for Italy. 

We won’t go to Hollywood, of course, 
That’s where I got my last divorce; 

We needn’t practise the wedding march, 
To me that bunk is.stale as starch; 

At our last wedding we did it, too, 

And so we know it through and through. 


88 


Dream Poetry 


Since you ask me, mother, 

Since you ask me now, 

How my poetry comes to me— 
Why, I know how. 

I will tell you, mother; 

I ’ll answer the question for you, 
Just how I am inspired, 

Just what I do. 

Sometimes it comes to me, mother, 
Comes to me in my dreams, 

And I see the glorious visions 
Of how that poetry seems. 

When I awake in the morning, 

It has all vanished from sight, 
And it leaves me wondering about 
The poetry of night. 

Then days will come, 

When I have nothing to do, 

And one moment an hour will seem 
Then comes to me 
A rush of words, 

The poetry of my dream! 


89 








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